First things first: None of this is meant to, in any way, undercut the most important fallout of the tragedy – the workers who lost their lives, or who are still missing. They and their families are front of mind for everyone at RSR.
Early on the morning of March 26, as I was scrolling through my phone in utter disbelief at the surreal yet seemingly very real news of the Francis Scott Key Bridge collapse, I received a text message from one of my lifelong best friends.
“Why am I all in my feelings over a bridge?” he asked.
The words shot through me like a lightning bolt. I had the exact same thought. Throughout the day, I saw several friends, most of whom had grown up in the same neighborhood I did, express similar feelings.
Along with, of course, the outpourings of thoughts and prayers for the men on the bridge when it fell and their families amid the ongoing rescue effort, there was much of this:
“I’m surprised at how emotional I am about the physical bridge being gone.”
In trying to process it all – an ongoing effort, to be sure – I came to understand that, for a certain group of people, the Key Bridge was far more than “just a bridge.”
For people who grew up in and around its shadow – namely folks from areas like Dundalk, Essex, Middle River, Curtis Bay, and Pasadena – the Bridge marked home.
While driving along the Baltimore beltway, you could see the truss of the expanse peeking up over the horizon around curves and smokestacks from miles away.
If you were lucky enough to be on a boat in the Patapsco River, the Bridge was a constant reminder of how close – or far away – you had ventured from the place you lay your head each night.
When I think back, I am hit with the thought that, other than like, the walls of my own homes, the Key Bridge may have been the physical, man-made structure I laid eyes on more than any other in my 40-plus years on this earth (those smokestacks are probably up there too…but it’s close.)
Upon further reflection, I came to realize that it was, by far, my favorite bridge to drive across. In any direction you looked, there were things to see.
To the north, the Baltimore city skyline.
To the east, the immense port machinery and the abandoned steel-making equipment of Sparrows Point.
To the west, the – admittedly un-pretty – Brandon Shores power plant. But further down, the shores where my childhood home sits, where my parents have lived since 1986, the bridge’s ninth birthday.
To the south, the also abandoned Fort Carroll, which I used to imagine was a mini Jurassic Park as a child. Further on, the Patapsco opening up into the wider Chesapeake Bay. On very clear days, you could see both the Key and Bay bridges at the same time, something my father loved to point out when bringing guests on his boat years ago.
Speaking of boats, I think those of us fortunate enough to have spent any appreciable time on the water around the area have even heavier hearts at the moment.
As a child, my Dad always had a boat. We kept it in the second creek down the Patapsco south of the Key Bridge. By water, two miles. The Bridge? A constant and permanent backdrop for countless hours of fishing, crabbing, cruising, and enjoying many a warm day beneath the sun and ospreys.
I’ve noticed more and more photo and video tributes pouring in, and the majority seem to be from folks I know through our shared love of fishing the Chesapeake Bay.
Here’s one from Steve Salanik that had me reaching for the tissue box.
View this post on Instagram
That captures it perfectly. In so many of our cherished memories of friends and family, the Bridge is there, looking over us, stretching across the backdrop like not an unwelcome interloper, but a welcomed companion.
Many of you are likely familiar with local musician Joey Harkum. He grew up in the same neighborhood as me. His band was named Pasadena. Yeah, he gets it. He posted something he had previously filmed, using the Key Bridge as a backdrop.
View this post on Instagram
In the most famous piece of modern art about Baltimore, David Simon’s epic television series The Wire, there are countless local landmarks featured.
Fort McHenry. The Natty Boh sign, winking at us through the night. Lexington Market. Oriole Park at Camden Yards.
But for us, by far, the symbol that made us sit up and say, “yes, that’s it. That’s my home?”
Those that featured the Key Bridge in the background.
Scenes from The Wire S2E4 “Hard Cases”
And it’s gone.
Like that. In the blink of an eye.
Without comparing tragedies (please, please don’t twist my words into doing just that)… I found myself thinking that this is how New Yorkers must have felt looking up and seeing the Twin Towers gone after 9/11.
(One more time: Please don’t say “this guy is saying it’s like 9/11!”)
The palpable sense of loss is like someone came and snatched the damn sun out of the sky on us overnight.
As the national news crews get bored and move on (my parents’ neighborhood remains filled with news vans and lookie-loos as I type this) to the next thing, we in Baltimore are left to pick up the pieces. My wife used the Bridge to commute to work three times a week. Along with tens of thousands of others, she’ll be funneled into alternate routes, causing who knows how many headaches, accidents, and worse in the coming years. The mess the international shipping community is facing is well beyond my scope of understanding. Local businesses, cut off from their customers as well as their supply chains, will struggle to adjust on the fly.
All of that is, of course, extremely important, and will affect the lives of Baltimoreans for the foreseeable future.
For those not from around here, I would ask them to please, when talking to someone from B’More, especially northern Anne Arundel or eastern Baltimore counties, take these words to heart:
We ARE all in our feelings about a bridge.
Because to us, it wasn’t just a bridge.
15 Responses
Touching piece DA! You’ve done a great job of sharing a perspective that those of us who don’t live near the shores of the Patapsco could never appreciate…until now.
Maybe you are familiar with the twin smoke stacks that once stood at Seneca Creek in Bowleys Quarters. They stood tall like red and white-striped homing devices, guiding boaters safely back to the Middle River area. Many nights I’ve traveled with friends on the waters of the Chesapeake and those towers, like goal posts in the night, provided comfort like a crossing guard to elementary students. The C.P. Crane Power Station where those towers resided, was demolished and in the demolition, the towers were not spared. They are missed.
But that hardly compares to your friend, The Key Bridge. It was more than just a way to navigate between Baltimore and Anne Arundel Counties as you so eloquently describe. I’m sorry that you had to say goodbye. I hope one day its replacement is as welcoming and helps bring you home, again.
My grandparents lived practically next door to those twin smoke stacks in Bowley’s Quarters, right on the Bay. I loved going on their dock and looking in the Crab basket as a kid.
My dad ran the Marina in Joppatowne the entire time I lived in MD (first 21 years of my life), and we used to take boats down to the Harbor all the time and go under the Key Bridge. As Derek said, it was a sign to me that “we were almost there”.
It’s good to see outsiders understanding that it’s more than just a Bridge. I’ve had countless people reach out to me asking my thoughts, and trying to explain to them how iconic that bridge was for Baltimore is hard, but I think people are getting it.
The 1980’s and working at Sparrows Point Shipyard. My father, myself, and some others from Pasadena made the trip for over 12 years across that bridge. After long hot days in the hull of ships , we would stop sometimes at the beer store on Ft Smallwood Road and get a cold tallboy. Not to mention long nights at Gails on Northpoint Blvd. That Bridge was always the gateway home. I will miss you dearly Francis Scott Key Bridge.
Grant C – wow. You need to delete this.
Great piece DA! Also David Simon has beautifully told off all the conservatives on twitter that said it was intentional or that it was a DEI hire. https://deadline.com/2024/03/david-simon-marjorie-taylor-greene-baltimore-bridge-1235868804/
Yes David Simon was absolutely right to call out all the racist morons who are somehow blaming this on Mayor Scott and Governor Moore!
This is what you bring to a memorial, Jammie?
Your expression of empathy and sense of community is truly ‘touching’ . . .
The year they opened the Key Bridge I was seven years out of Vietnam and at least a good three years away from trying to rejoin ‘polite society’. Late seventies, early eighties I went crabbing in a skiff with a bunch of old traps around the piers near shore as often as I could. I lived in Fells Point then and my buddy and I had a sail boat. I worked for the Post Office and he owned a bar on Broadway. Many afternoons, even into December, we would sail out past the bridge into the bay. Bridge to bridge, line of sight navigation. Another friend had a place on Middle River. If you stood on the pier where it met the sea wall and looked down to the left, you could even see the bridge from there.
Still a shock, even after living far away in the Twin Cities for 25 years. All those memories came rushing back just like they were yesterday. I understand your shock and pain, we all can out here. We had ours seventeen years ago this August when the I-35W bridge dropped. Thirteen dead and 145 injured. When the news about the Key Bridge broke, it jolted this whole community.
You never forget.
Great writing, Derek. The Key Bridge truly was an institution.
On the plus side, I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of eight lazy road workers standing around doing nothing as the ship came close. Lazy bastards
Wow! Six men died dumb@$$. They were out in the cold doing a job you wouldn’t do. They had filled the potholes and were waiting for the patches to set before moving on. They don’t get to go home. Their families don’t get to see them again. Great ‘sense of humor’ there Captain Silver . . .
Oh, come on, have you ever driven on a road? When has a road crew ever had more than one person working at one time? Never.
Six people died dumb@$$. Try to focus on that and just how feckless your dismissal or disregard for that loss is.
It’s a shame you weren’t on that bridge.
Like too many comments I’ve seen on social media regarding The Key Bridge, this is in very poor taste. Just absolutely shameful.
This is beautifully said Derek. I’m a stringer with the New York Times and we are doing a story on the significance of the Key Bridge. I’d love to either interview you, or use some of your recollection. Could you either call me at (410) 703-3912 or email me at Jo*************@gm***.com?
Thank you!